


Free Falling

by malagenabolakaful



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s15e18 Despair, Episode: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Loss of Identity, Not A Fix-It, Post-Canon, Reunions, Sam Winchester is Not Okay, Sam Winchester-centric, Team Free Will (Supernatural), Trauma, very low on the comfort side tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27675247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malagenabolakaful/pseuds/malagenabolakaful
Summary: What keeps him going is…Sam honestly doesn't know. His entire family is dead. He looks at their initials carved into the bunker table and something cracks in his chest, something permanent, something time can't mend.Episodes 18 to 20 from Sam's POV. Hints of Dean/Castiel and Sam/Eileen, but mainly just Sam being traumatized because the writers took away his entire support system.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 30





	Free Falling

**Author's Note:**

> The writers took Sam's voice away in the finale. This is me trying to give it back to him. This is not a fix-it fic, everything that happened in the finale still happens, but you can see it through Sam's eyes this time. It's not happy or hopeful because that's not how I see his ending. They took everything from him and then acted like he'd be happy with a random wife & kid. It's a spit in his face and this is me trying to make sense of it, of why Sam would choose this life after everything that happened to him.
> 
> He deserved better, just like Dean and Cas did. He deserved true happiness, true contentment, his true family, not the bullshit they tried to sell off as his perfect life. The notion that they had to go to heaven in order to find true peace sends a terrible message, too, and I do not support it at all. I tried my best to still find a way to make it work.
> 
> warning: Sam is not okay. He's grieving, he's depressed, he's traumatized. While he doesn't try to take his life, it's rather the pure lack of care for what happens to him that is worrying. He's destroying himself from the inside.
> 
> writing this was therapeutic, so I hope it'll resonate with a few others as well.

From the moment he loses Eileen, it feels like Sam is free falling. He pushes it down because that's what he does, that's how he survives.  
  
He doesn't have the luxury of falling apart when the world is ending once again.  
  
Still, it hurts with every breath he takes. It's something he knows he won't shake off easily. It's the reason he tried to protect himself from ever falling in love again, because it never ended well before, so why should it this time?  
  
What keeps him going is his family. Cas, giving him this strange sense of comfort by just standing behind him, like he'll never leave; not for good. Like he's still the angel that watches over them, unwavering, always coming back. Always choosing them no matter the odds, no matter what it cost him. Jack, caught in his very own existential crisis because he thinks he's only contributing something to his family if he's powerful. Sam is proud of most things he taught him, but he isn't proud of this. Deep down he knows it was inevitable, but Jack should've never adapted the Winchester way of thinking that sacrifice and usefulness defines his worth. Jack still needs his guidance; his protection, and he knows he'd give everything for this kid. His kid.  
  
Dean. There aren't enough words to express how deeply they are connected. How much shared trauma, deaths, victories, betrayals and reunions tethered them together. Sam accepted a long time ago that he didn't want a life without Dean by his side. Not in the way it was years ago, like they _had_ to be together because they weren't whole without the other person or because Sam owed him because he wouldn't have survived his childhood if Dean hadn't thrown himself in between Sam and John's anger and grief over and over again. No, Sam wanted more than them sacrificing themselves for the other, he wanted something that lasted longer. And they fought for it, long and hard, fought through years of separation anxiety and resurrections and losing too many people along the way.  
  
They fought with everything they had in them to stand here today and be able to split up, if only for a moment. Dean hugs Sam and his determination seeps through Sam like it is his own. They're gonna find their way back to each other, like they always do. But first, they gotta do what they gotta do, and the thought of that keeps him going.  
  
He takes Jack with him and decides to have faith.  
  


.

.

  
When they lose Cas, he's still falling. But it hurts more now. It hurts to even think. His mind is spinning so fast he can't even react properly.  
  
"This can't be happening," he says, because he would feel different if it were. He would cry. He would be devastated.  
  
Instead, he's falling into a pit of nothingness.  
  
"It is, Sam," Dean insists, and his finality, his hopelessness convinces Sam.  
  
Even if they manage to defeat Chuck, Cas is still gone.  
  
Even if they bring everyone back, Cas is still gone.  
  
_Cas is gone._  
  
Sam looks at Dean's shoulder and he knows.  
  
He knows something else happened, something Dean doesn't want to talk about, for the same reason Sam didn't want to let himself go there when Eileen died.  
  
_Cas, Eileen._  
  
Sam tries to breathe out. He feels the control slipping through is fingers.  
  
He calls everyone; anyone. He knows they're not gonna pick up, but his brain simply refuses to accept that they're all alone.  
  
Something he said to Rowena a while ago comes back to his mind.  
  
_The world kept almost ending, so I keep pushing it down._  
  
He doesn't have a choice. There's a greater good here, something that matters more than him losing the people he loves.  
  
Still, what keeps him going is his family. Jack needs him. Dean needs him.  
  
Losing Cas is even harder for both of them.  
  
It's his mantra when Jack leaves the bar to have a moment to himself, probably praying to Cas. It's on a loop in his head when he finds Dean passed out on the floor, surrounded by bottles. It's what he almost says out loud when he has to face Lucifer again and the trauma threatens to overtake him.  
  
His family needs him.  
  
He makes a plan, throws everything he's got in it and decides to have faith.  
  


.

.

  
When they lose Jack, he realises he's never stopped falling.  
  
He thought winning against Chuck and making the world right again would put his feet back on the ground, but the second he understands that defeating Chuck means losing Jack, he's hit by the fact that it was only an illusion.  
  
He cries. He cries instead of telling Jack how much he means to him, how parenting Jack led to more contentment and self-healing than anything he's ever experienced in all of his life, how grateful he is to Cas that he believed in him before anyone else did. How him, Dean and Cas were a family before, but it never really felt like they achieved anything before Jack became a part of it. How Jack was the biggest reward for never giving up hunting and saving the world instead of losing himself in the fantasy that he wanted a normal, apple pie life. How building a home and a family with Dean was his single greatest accomplishment and he wasn't sure he could go on without it.  
  
Sam cries as Jack walks away. Jack says he'll always be with them, but a selfish part of Sam knows it won't be enough. Not after everything Chuck took from him.  
  
Sam cries and lets him go. Because he knows what it feels like to have his choice taken away from him and no matter how much he's hurting, he would never do that to Jack.  
  
He cries in the car on their way back to bunker. Dean's driving, careful not to look at him because he knows Sam doesn't want him to. Sam wipes his face and tries to remind  
himself why he's still here.  
  
Why he keeps going.  
  
It's Dean. It's his family.  
  
It's all he has left.  
  
Something ugly and twisted inside of Sam whispers that it might not be enough anymore, but he pushes it down.  
  
Dean is what keeps him going.  
  
They have a drink, celebrating their freedom.  
  
They take long, long drives in the Impala and let the sun shine on their faces.  
  
Sam does feel free, but he also feels haunted.  
  
He longs for his family.  
  
He sees the way Dean looks at Cas' name on the library table and starts looking for a way to get him back.  
  
He even prays to Jack, knowing he won't answer.  
  
He doesn't tell Dean.  
  
Him and Dean keep going, but they barely mention Jack and Cas. It's as if they're aware that dealing with their losses would force them to confront the ugly truth – something significant is missing without them.  
  
Sam's chest feels cracked. He's terrified to let his mind wander, to let himself feel anything deeper than the casual enjoyment that Dean and him can finally choose their own path.  
  
He asks Eileen for some time, petrified that he'll lose her again if he so much as sets foot in the same town as her.  
  
He lets Dean dictate the pace, lets him keep Miracle (he'd always wanted a dog anyway) and let's himself get dragged to a pie fest, if only to see a true, genuine smile on his brother's face. It's a rare moment of happiness. It's a moment that makes him almost believe that they'll be okay, even without Jack and Cas.  
  
Dean says, "If we don't keep living, all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing."  
  
Maybe he'll call Eileen tomorrow.  
  
They find a case and he decides to have faith in himself and Dean.

  
.

.  
  
  
  
When he loses Dean, Sam is faced with the fundamental truth that he will never stop falling.  
  
There's no bottom to this pit he's dragged into.  
  
He holds his brother in his arms and there is nothing but pain.  
  
Waves and waves of unbearable, endless pain.  
  
He cries until his body is hollow and shaking.  
  
He summons Rowena on the spot, and her bottom lip quivers slightly at the sight of Dean.  
  
"I'm sorry, Samuel."  
  
"I don't need your sympathies, I need you to bring him back," Sam orders.  
  
"He wouldn't want that."  
  
"I don't care," he bellows.  
  
The look she gives him is almost enough to make him cry again. "Yes, you do. Regardless, even if I wanted to, I couldn't bring him back. Jack wouldn't allow me to."  
  
Sam's heart is hammering in his chest. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"We made an arrangement. As long as I don't make any deals and trades with innocent lives, I am allowed to keep running hell."  
  
Sam closes his eyes when she moves to touch his arm. "What am I supposed to do?", he whispers.  
  
"Let him go."  
  
His mouth twitches almost painfully. "You know that's not an option."  
  
She meets his desperate stare and shakes her head. "It's the only option you have left."  
  


.

.  
  
  
He buries Dean alone, with only Miracle by his side.  
  
He knows his brother, knows that he wanted a big funeral with everyone sharing stories and getting drunk, celebrating his life, but Sam hasn't even told anyone that he's dead yet.  
  
Eileen calls when he's on his way back to the bunker and he nearly drives the Impala off the road. He's too aware that he'll lose it if he'd answer her call, so he just tosses the phone to the passenger seat and lets it ring.  
  
The bunker doesn't feel like home anymore. It feels like punishment.  
  
Dean is _everywhere._  
  
"Fuck," Sam mutters when he sees one of Dean's flannels carelessly thrown over the back of a chair and the half empty bottle of Jack they'd opened the day before on the table.  
Panic is rising in his body, so strong that he has to move forward and grip the edge of the table to steady himself before his vision blacks out.  
  
The reality of what just happened, of what has been happening over the last couple of weeks finally hits him and it simply hurts too much to bear.  
  
Eileen.  
  
Cas.  
  
Jack.  
  
Dean.  
  
The weight of their losses thunders through him, one by one.  
  
"Fuck," he gasps out, still feeling the need to keep himself upright even when his knees seem to give out any second. He falls into a chair and tries to breathe, but the pain inside of him won't let him.  
  
What keeps him going is…  
  
Sam honestly doesn't know.  
  
His entire family is dead.  
  
He looks at their initials carved into the bunker table and something cracks in his chest, something permanent, something time can't mend.  
  
He remembers the night Dean started carving Cas' letters into the wood, a haunted look on his face that almost tore Sam in half. The depth of Dean's pain was palpable and there was nothing he could do to ease it. So instead of saying anything, he'd taken his own knife and worked on Jack's name.  
  
That night, Dean had told him what really happened when the Empty took Cas.  
  
That night, Sam realised that Dean had truly never known how Cas felt about him, and the pure tragedy of that nearly drove him insane.  
  
That night, he'd just joined his brother while he drank himself silly because he understood. He knew. He'd always known.  
  
That night, Dean had said, "I don't know what I would do if you weren't here, but I know it wouldn't be pretty."  
  
Sam stares at Dean's initials on the table and doesn't want to keep going.  
  
He's the last one left standing.  
  
Dean said he'd always been the stronger one.  
  
It's almost laughable how wrong he was.  
  
His feet carry him into Dean's room. He sees the job application on his table and has the sudden urge to kill something, but instead, he just falls apart. He sits in his brother's room and sobs until he hears the faint ringing of one of Dean's phones.  
  
It's a case.  
  
Saving people, hunting things.  
  
Once upon a time, it felt like Sam's destiny. Later, it felt like his choice, something he loved doing with is brother by his side.  
  
Now, it feels like a sick obligation so Dean won't be disappointed in him like he was the last time.  
  
_Always keep fighting,_ Dean had said.  
  
He packs almost nothing, leaves everything behind except the Impala and shuts the door.  
  
There is no more faith left in him.

.

.  
  
  
He meets her the night he almost calls Eileen. The urge to see a familiar face almost got the better of him, but then this woman sits down next to him and her kind eyes and the shy smile fill Sam with a weird mixture of relief and resignation.  
  
Dean would want this for him.  
  
Talking to her is easy. Being with her isn't, at first, but he gets used to it.  
  
He gets on.  
  
He keeps going.  
  
He doesn't know why.  
  
Maybe it's because Dean would want him to.  
  
(He actually doesn't think Dean would like to see him like this, but it's the best he can do.)  
  
Time passes him without meaning, without impact.  
  
They buy a house.  
  
Sam buys a new car and the Impala stays in the garage.  
  
He's shocked when she tells him she's pregnant.  
  
He prays to Jack that night, for the first time in years. The desperation clings to him as he repeats one sentence over and over again.  
  
_Please tell me I can do this._  
  
He never gets an answer.  
  
He calls his son Dean, grateful that his wife accepts the proposition without hesitation. She knows about Dean, knows that Sam lost him. She doesn't know about Cas and Jack or about hunting or the apocalypse.  
  
Sam never tells her. He acts like it never happened.  
  
His son grows up in front of his eyes and sometimes there is an emotion tugging at his heartstrings. He can't define if it's pride or joy. It's too shallow to be called happiness, but maybe it's enough. Maybe this was his legacy all along. Maybe he was never meant to be a leader, a hunter, a brother. Maybe he was always meant to live through other people. Maybe his son is the only lasting impact he'll ever make on this world.  
  
So many maybes, so little certainty.  
  
He keeps going.  
  
At this point, it's just a default setting.  
  
He's Sam Winchester.  
  
Sam Winchester keeps going.

.

.  
  
  
Grief and trauma define every second of his life. He's in a constant daze, his vision deeply immersed in a shade of grey. He knows he could work on it, talk to someone, try to find his old self again.  
  
He doesn't.  
  
He doesn't want to.  
  
He doesn't deserve to.  
  
He's alive and Dean and Cas aren't. He should've tried to bring them back.  
  
He puts up pictures of him and Dean eventually. Bobby, too. The picture of the two of them with his parents hangs above it all, almost grotesquely telling the story of a life Sam never had. He doesn't include pictures of Cas and Jack. It's as if he wants to deny himself the claim that they were ever his family. His true family. The family Sam and Dean build. The family that was taken from him before they got their first taste of true happiness.  
  
It might be a form of self-punishment. It might be part of his delusion that the life he has now is the life he's wanted all along. It might be his way of telling himself that he didn't run away again because he wouldn't have made it through the first week without them otherwise.  
  
One evening, when he's sitting in the Impala, tightly gripping the wheel, he starts talking to Dean. He feels almost insane because of the level of comfort it brings him. It makes him feel like his true self again. He talks to him like they're just catching up, like Sam married Eileen and moved away and they've just grown a bit estranged over the course of time. He knows they wouldn't have, knows they would've stayed together, but it's a nice dream.  
  
He dreams a lot, too.  
  
He dreams of the bunker and all the knowledge he left behind to rot because the power of his grief didn't allow him to pick up the phone and ask Jody, Garth, Bobby, hell, _any_ hunter to take the keys and take care of it. He wishes he would've. The real Sam would've.  
Actually, the real Sam would've turned the bunker into a safe haven for anyone who needed his help. The real Sam would've shared his knowledge and experience with the hunter network he built and nourished for years. The real Sam would've stayed in the bunker for the rest of his life, with Dean and Cas right by his side. Maybe even with Eileen, if she ever felt like moving in.  
  
He dreams of Eileen, too. His sign language is dreadful now, the knowledge of it dying inside of him slowly and painfully. He dreams of the day he brought her back to life, the victory tasting sweet on his tongue when he could finally wrap his arms around her and feel her again. Telling her no remains one of his biggest regrets, but the shell of who he is now can't give her what she deserves. He knows his misery would've made her unhappy, and he was simply unable to open his heart enough to let her in again.  
  
He dreams of Jack. He dreams of him knowing that he probably would've lost him either way. That doesn't make it easier, it just makes the ache in his chest more persistent. In his dreams, Jack is exactly how he should be, loving and kind and healing and with a soul so pure that Sam is still baffled he gets to call him his kid. Because he is. Jack was and always will be his child and no matter what Sam tells himself, the void he left behind was never filled by anyone else.  
  
He dreams of Dean and Cas. One of his most damaging thoughts is that they should be here instead of him. They should've gotten a chance to create the life they wanted for themselves, without any fear or obstacles standing in their way. Because Sam is doing a terrible job at it, and if this is the best he could do, they deserved their shot at happiness way more than he ever did. When he dreams of them, he feels free. They sit at the map table in the bunker and bicker or they go on occasional hunts or they have dinner in a run-down fast food joint and Sam rolls his eyes when Cas tries to sneak Dean the rest of his fries after Sam explicitly told his brother that he's not gonna reach the age of 50 if he keeps going like this. Sam gets to experience a different side of Dean, a Dean that doesn't hold himself back anymore and holds Cas' hand instead. Life isn't perfect, but it's content. It's what it should've been. It's what they fought for. It's what they never got to have.  
  
When he dreams of himself, Dean and Cas on a beach in matching Hawaiian shirts, their toes in the sand, he wakes up with such a strong feeling of loss that he almost chokes on it. It's like they were ripped from him all over again and he doesn't know how much longer he can go on like this.  
  
He loves his wife and his son, at least he thinks he does. Anything else would mean that he's the most hollow, broken person walking the earth.  
  
But he hasn't felt, deeply felt, anything except grief since Dean died.  
  
He longs to be released from this life but it's too late to give up now.  
  
Sam has responsibilities. He has a family.  
  
He often curses himself for naming his son after Dean.  
  
It's like he didn't even try to move on. He still doesn't try.  
  
He starts taking sleeping pills to silence his thoughts. They further his numbness, but then again, so does the drinking. And at least the dreams go away. The swirling hole of darkness in his gut never does.

  
.

.  
  
  
In his last days, Sam can't help but think that this shouldn't have been his life. This shouldn't have been how he lived his life because he actually didn't live it at all. He stopped living the moment Dean was taken from him and has merely existed since them, letting time pass him by. He was given a chance, a chance Dean never had, and he'd been too broken to find any happiness in it. He'd just let the years change in the hope that he would eventually see his brother again.  
  
It's fucked up that he doesn't regret it.  
  
He knows he couldn't have done any better, even if he'd tried harder. Trying harder would've just hurt more. Trying harder would've meant replacing that picture of his mom, dad, Dean and him with the picture he took the night Jack came back to life, the one with Dean's arm slung around Cas' shoulder and Sam's hand on Jack's chest, goofy, happy smiles on all their faces. The picture he left behind at the bunker because just the thought of looking at it again would've sent him into a spiral he doesn't think he would've ever come back from.  
  
Him giving into the illusion of a perfect, apple pie life with a wife and kid had been his form of giving up, but at the same time, it had been a sick form of self-preservation. He survived because something inside of him shut down that night he shut the door to the bunker. It just wasn't approachable anymore. He'd often wished it was, but then he remembered the mountain of pain and trauma he'd have to work through in order to find his actual self again and the urge faded away like the rest of him did.  
  
Nothing would've saved him from that because everyone that could've, everyone that kept him going, kept him focused and fighting and loving and kind, was gone.  
  
In his last days, Sam also realises he hasn't done everything wrong. His son is all he ever hoped he could be, and if he's had any impact on him at all, he'll stay as far away from the hunting life as possible. He knows about it, he's prepared for the worst case, but Sam warned him. It was probably the only time he was ever honest about how much life brought him to his knees.  
  
When his son tells him he can go now, it feels like a release.  
  
It feels like _finally._  
  


.

.  
  
  
Sam doesn't know what he expected, but he sure as hell didn't expect to see Jack the moment he opened his eyes.  
  
A few key words race through is mind at lightning speed.  
  
Heaven. God. Dean. Jack.  
  
Jack is standing in front of him, wearing the same clothes he was wearing when he left earth. He smiles, and Sam hasn't felt warmth like that crawling through his chest in decades.  
  
"Sam."  
  
He moves forward without thinking, without asking himself if he can really just go ahead and pull God in a crushing hug.  
  
This is Jack.  
  
This is _his kid._  
  
He's gonna fucking hug his kid if he feels like it.  
  
Jack embraces him and tears spill out of Sam's eyes before he can help it.  
  
"I know you didn't have an easy life."  
  
His words don't make it better, they just make Sam cry harder.  
  
"I felt your pain so strongly sometimes, it was hard not to intervene. It's been my hardest challenge."  
  
Sam swallows down questions like _Why didn't you_ or accusations like _How could you_ , because he knows the answers already. He just keeps Jack close and breathes him in.  
  
He realises that he can breathe again. Properly breathe.  
  
"I hope you'll like it here," Jack says when they pull apart, and he seems almost shy. Like he wants to impress him, receive his praise for a job well done. "We worked very hard on it."  
  
Sam is too distracted by looking around himself to ask who _we_ are. He sees a bridge on the far end of his path and his breath hitches when he recognises the car.  
  
"Is that—"  
  
Jack smiles again. "He's been waiting for you."  
  
Sam turns around to hug him once more, or to just thank him, or maybe just to tell him that he loves him, but Jack is already gone. There's a slight ping of pain in Sam's chest, but it's not comparable to the way he felt on earth.  
  
His feet carry him forward, step by step. He doesn't make a noise, eyes fixed on the Impala. He hears the river in the background, a constant humming in his ears. It's so idyllic it might as well be one of his dreams. But when he sees Dean's silhouette, waiting for him at the bridge, it doesn't feel like a dream. It feels real. It feels raw and overwhelming and Sam almost gasps because after all this time, he finally made it.  
  
He's finally here.  
  
He's standing right behind him now, taking it all in.  
  
"Hey Sammy," Dean says, and Sam can hear the smile in his voice.  
  
He turns around and looks exactly like he did when he died and in that moment Sam realises that so does he. He didn't go to heaven looking like the old, burned-out and broken version of himself. Sam is his true self again.  
  
He doesn't manage to get anything other than his brother's name out. He just stares at him. Stares and stares until Dean laughs and hugs him. Sam's brain is still trying to catch up when he hugs him back, clings to him. It's still catching up when they stand at the railing, staring into the distance, just the two of them in comfortable silence.  
  
He wants to say a million things, but he can't find the right words to begin.  
  
When he finally does speak, he doesn't really know why he's starting with something heavy. Maybe it's because there's been nothing but heaviness and death in his heart for so long.  
  
"Do you know anything about my life after you…", his voice trails off and he gestures at the tress, but Dean gets it.  
  
"No. Sadly, we don't know anything about what happens on earth. It was hard at first." Dean clenches his jaw. "Not knowing how you were. Not knowing anything about how you went on."  
  
Sam nods "That's good. I got nothing to be proud of, really."  
  
Something in Dean's eyes changes and he moves his body towards him. "Sam," he says, "no matter how bad it was, you know I was right when I said you're stronger than me."  
  
Sam shakes his head, but Dean won't let him say anything.  
  
"I'm serious. You know damn well if I'd lost what you lost, Jack, Cas _and_ you in the span of, what, a couple of days? I would've followed you here hours later."  
  
It shouldn't comfort him. It's messed up, but it also makes Sam feel understood. It makes him feel less guilty over coping so badly after losing everyone he loved. After losing his entire support system and having no one to turn to.  
The mention of Cas stirs something up in him, something he wants to say, even if it hurts him to his bones.  
  
"Right before you—before our last hunt, I started looking into ways to bring Cas back from the Empty."  
  
A shadow clouds Dean's features. "Sam…"  
  
"But then you died and I," Sam takes in a sharp breath but it doesn't help, "I just gave up. I left all the books in the bunker and never looked back. I should've brought him back while I was still alive, I should've done more so we could all be—"  
  
Dean pulls him into a tight hug when the first sob breaks out of Sam's lips. "It's okay, you hear me? Everything is okay."  
  
"It's not," Sam whispers, hiding his face in Dean's shoulder while the next wave of sadness rolls over him. "He's still—he'll always be trapped in the Empty now. He'll never—"  
  
"Sam, look at me," Dean's voice is stern now and he grabs Sam by the neck to meet his eyes.  
  
Sam heaves in a long, unsteady breath and listens.  
  
"Cas is not in the Empty. He's _here_ , you understand? You could've never brought him back because Jack had already pulled him outta that place before I had my first foot in heaven."  
  
Sam is so shocked that he stops crying. "He's—he's here?"  
  
Dean's smile reaches his eyes. He nods. "He's not going anywhere if I can help it."

There's a noise behind Sam, like the rustling of wings in a breeze.  
  
Then, "Hello Sam."  
  
For the first time in a very, very long time, Sam's chest cracks open in a good way. Joy fills him like thick liquid that reaches every corner of his body, mending some of the cracks he thought would be irreparable forever. He turns around and wraps his arm around his best friend and hears Cas' small chuckle next to his ear.  
  
"Easy now, you're gonna crush him," Dean teases lightly, but the tears in his eyes when he meets Cas' gaze betray him.  
  
"I can't believe you're here," Sam says, finally drawing back to look at Cas.  
  
He's still wearing his trenchcoat, his tie is on backwards and hangs crooked from his neck. But his eyes are softer, fonder, as is his expression and the way he carries himself.  
He seems unburdened. He seems free.  
  
Still, Sam asks, "Are you okay?"  
  
Cas gives him an honest smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"We've been waiting for you for a while," Dean admits, exchanging another look with Cas. Something passes between them. "Cas kept telling me that it was only a matter of time before I'd see you again."  
  
"So, Cas has been here, in your heaven, the entire time?"  
  
"The way I understand it, this is _our_ heaven. It belongs to all of us, and we share and can see each other whenever we want. Cas helped Jack building it."  
  
Sam takes a beat to process this. "Wow."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, this means you've been at peace all along?" The thought comforts Sam beyond words. This is all he wanted. Granted, he wanted it on earth and he would've fought tooth and nail for his family's happiness if it wouldn't have been ripped from him, but if Cas and Dean had been happy since they came here, that would be enough for him.  
  
Surprisingly, Dean furrows his brows. His look turns distant for a moment, like reality slips out of his grasp. "Not exactly."  
  
Cas steps up to him, tugs on his sleeve and says his name. Quiet, gentle. Like they've done this before. Maybe they have. Dean's eyes shift into focus again and he shrugs it off. "Guess there's no real peace if a big, essential part of it was missing."  
  
He smiles at Sam again, but it's sadder now. "Besides, I can't help but think that we should've had more time on earth. I wish we could've lived the life we wanted. Heaven is great, it's peaceful and all that, but it's not living. It's not the same. We were finally in charge of our own destiny and I didn't get to do anything with it."  
  
He pauses, swallows. Sam can see the regret in his face, mirroring his own. Cas looks at them and closes his eyes for a moment.  
Sam is desperate to say something, to make it better. "At least you had Cas."  
  
His brother's eyes well up. "Yeah. I had Cas with me the entire time."  
  
Sam swallows, but his throat is tight. "I'm glad."  
  
Cas' eyes are misty, too. "So am I. It was just hard being away from you."  
  
_They didn't deserve this,_ Sam thinks. _They didn't deserve to be stuck here, waiting for me, while I was on earth, waiting to be with them._  
  
"I really wanted to make it work, you know," Dean murmurs, shuffling his feet. "I wanted to build a good life for myself, at the bunker with the two of you and with Jack. I get that him leaving was probably inevitable, but still…" he shrugs again. "Guess it wasn't meant to be."  
  
"We need to learn not to dwell on it," Cas cuts in gently. He intertwines his fingers with Dean's and it's so casual, so normal, that Sam's heart almost leaps out of his chest. This is what he wanted to see, on earth, at the bunker, going through his life. His family, together. Coping. Leaning on each other. "We're here now, all of us. And while it won't be the same, we can still make it up as we go."  
  
A hoarse laugh escapes Dean's throat. "Cas."  
  
Cas' fingers move up to rest on Dean's cheek for a few seconds. Sam drinks it in, feels it pour through him and tries his best not to cry because this is it. This is the feeling he's been chasing for all of his life.  
  
"I mean it," Cas continues, now placing one hand on Dean's shoulder and the other on Sam's. "This is our chance, at last."  
  
Sam's smile is honest and wide when he's pulled into another hug, feeling the weight of Cas' and Dean's bodies against him. He holds onto them like his life depends on it because he knows – he always knew – that it does.  
  
He thinks of where they are and feels something resembling deep seated happiness. Contentment. It sweeps through him, but he can see it passes through Dean and Cas, too.  
  
They're standing on a bridge in heaven. Two hunters and an angel, holding each other.  
  
It's not the same as living.  
  
It's not what the three of them deserved, but it's something.  
  
It's something.  
  


.

.


End file.
